


Sober

by mitigates



Series: Songfics [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is so far gone, Bokuaka - Freeform, Bokuto helping Akaashi, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, M/M, Rehab, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitigates/pseuds/mitigates
Summary: I got no excuses for all of these goodbyesCall me when it’s over, ‘cause I’m dying insideAkaashi dealing with a drug addiction. Bokuto is trying, but Akaashi has to try harder.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800937
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Sober

_I got no excuses for all of these goodbyes_

_Call me when it’s over, ‘cause I’m dying inside_

Akaashi sat across from a broken man. A shattered man. An empty husk of a man. His hair was flat, his eyes were dull, his mouth was curved into a permanent downward spiral, similar to the rest of his life. He blinked slowly and the man in front of him mimicked his actions. That made Akaashi scoff and turn his head to the side. Again, the man in front of him matched his movements. 

“Kaashi?”

Akaashi turned his head in the opposite direction toward the gentle voice that was trying to get his attention. In his head, he responded. In his head, he smiled gratefully at the man that he tried so hard to love. In his head, he opened his arms and felt the fading but familiar pressure of that man’s body squeezing next to his. In reality, Akaashi stared back blankly then turned back toward the man in front of him.

“Kaashi, what are you doing?” 

The seat next to Akaashi dipped as he sat down and sunk into the worn leather sofa.

“Kaashi…”

_Wake me when the shakes are gone and the cold sweats disappear_

_Call me when it’s over and myself has reappeared_

He felt a hand on his face, a thumb pressing against his cheek, and fingers pressuring his jaw to turn towards him.

“Kaashi, it’s me.” He smiled and the warmth that Akaashi had grown accustomed to was trying so hard to be there for him. That calming warmth that had the energy of rechargeable batteries at their fullest potential, it still felt cold beside him. “It’s me, Bokuto. It’s me-” His confidence gave way to a crack in his exterior as his voice cracked. His hand fell from Akaashi’s face and Akaashi couldn’t decide if he missed it or not. He wanted to miss it. That was good, right?

Akaashi shifted slightly after Bokuto got up, he turned his eyes back to the emotionless man in front of him and they shared a glare. He could hear Bokuto speaking with a doctor behind him but he didn’t care enough to listen to what they had to say. They were talking about him, they were always talking about him.

He looked down at his bandaged wrists and became further annoyed when the man across from him did the same with his own matching wounds. Akaashi started removing the bandages from his arms. He unwrapped them slowly and ignored the protests of those behind him. He moved faster, ripping apart the gauze. He wasn’t surprised by what he found.

He was fine. There wasn’t anything wrong with his arms or his wrists or even his hands where his right bandage extended to. He had scars but nothing fresh. No blood. No stitches. No disgusting healing wounds that were self-inflicted.

No, that wasn’t where the damage was.

_I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know why._

_I do it every, every, every time. It’s only when I’m lonely_

Akaashi thought back to a few years ago when things were better and different. Things were...normal. Normal was a relative word, a subjective word, it wasn’t the right word but it was the only word he could think of. Lately, it was all he could think about. What was normal? Was he normal? Was Bokuto normal? Was the unoccupied shell sitting across from him normal? He made a mental note to look up the definition of normal, the actual textbook definition held in that year's edition of Webster’s. Anyway...he was getting distracted.

4 years ago was when he had his first incident. He had what felt like early rheumatoid arthritis in his wrists. Bokuto jumped to that conclusion after doing a quick Google search regarding where Akaashi's pain was. His original doctor blamed it on his history of volleyball and initially diagnosed him with osteoarthritis. He was a setter, all that hand flicking and wrist moving was bound to do some damage eventually. Then, he became a writer. He was an editor to be specific. He originally wanted to be in the literature department as a writer, but his phenomenal eye for detail rocketed him to the top of the list as the first choice for a popular shonen manga magazine from one of the biggest publishers in the country. He became an editor and he was very good at it.

He was trying to fall asleep one night after a long session editing and an equally long sex session with Bokuto and the pain in his hands was becoming unbearable. He remembered going into the bathroom and trying to turn the faucet on to splash water on his face but he couldn’t grip anything with his hands. He might have cried, he couldn’t remember, he blocked most of those days that were filled with pain from his head. He saw three different doctors after looking for a second opinion that all said the same thing, rheumatoid arthritis. His history with volleyball and editing was just a happy coincidence. It was uncommon for him to be diagnosed so young, but the articles that doctors ended up writing about him and his hands did nothing for his pain.

_Sometimes I just wanna cave and I don’t wanna fight_

_I try and I try and I try and I try and I try_

_Just hold me, I’m lonely_

He started with some kind of topical cream. Bokuto liked to apply it to his hands whenever he needed it. He took his time massaging the cream in and Akaashi didn’t have the heart to tell him it did nothing. Not at first, anyway.

He went to the typical NSAID’s next: nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs that were sold over the counter. Those didn’t do a goddamned thing. He recalled a specific incident when he screamed at Bokuto for picking up pills that were 500mg per dose instead of 1000mg per dose. Bokuto didn’t respond, having started to become used to Akaashi’s outbursts and eye flooding apologies after. Akaashi was in pain and Bokuto knew that. He just wanted to help. They tried a combination of topical creams, acupuncture, anti-inflammatories, and even meditation for 2 years before Akaashi had enough of it.

His doctor put him on antidepressants, though Akaashi fought vehemently against that. He insisted he wasn’t depressed even though he fit 12 different symptoms. Bokuto saw it but he didn’t have it inside him to point anything out to Akaashi. The littlest things set him off.

They tried steroids next, injecting them between his knuckles. Akaashi didn’t like needles so that treatment didn’t last long. He had a choice between continuing to try what they had been doing with the creams and the antidepressants and the basic ass pills you could buy on any grocery store counter or narcotics. He chose the latter. It was fine at first, his prescription was light and it was working until it wasn’t anymore. The prescription-strength was increased. Then it increased again. Then again. It kept getting increased until Bokuto had to report Akaashi’s doctor to the medical board for abusing his license. Bokuto found out Akaashi was paying for more pills on the side as well as going through his regular prescriptions like they were fucking candy.

_Mama, I’m so sorry, I’m not sober anymore._

_Daddy please forgive me for the drinks spilled on the floor_

After the doctor disappeared, Akaashi was alright for a while. At least Bokuto thought he was. It wasn’t until he found Akaashi face down in a pile of his own vomit that he realized nothing was what it seemed. Akaashi had a problem, he had a big problem. He went to rehab for 6 months and Bokuto was there to greet him when he finished the program. Bokuto hugged him as tight as he could, as tight as the night he thought he lost him. Months passed and Bokuto realized that Akaashi wasn’t Akaashi anymore. He was always reserved before but when he was with just Bokuto, he at least smiled. He laughed at his jokes, his laugh was the single most incredible sound in the world and it was something Bokuto lived for. He was counting the days until he heard Akaashi’s laugh again. He didn’t hear it again.

_To the ones who never left me, we’ve been down this road before_

_I’m so sorry, I’m not sober anymore._

The next time Bokuto found Akaashi, the raven-haired man wasn’t breathing.

His lips were blue and Bokuto couldn’t feel his pulse. Bokuto pressed his ear against his boyfriend’s chest and held himself together as best as he could. After finding Akaashi the first time, Bokuto started taking classes and researching. He became certified in CPR, just in case. He researched how to make someone vomit, just in case. He went to Narcotics Anonymous meetings to hear other people’s stories, just in case. 

_I’m sorry to my future love, for the man who left my bed_

_For making love the way I saved for you inside my head_

Bokuto checked his responsiveness first. He rubbed his knuckles hard over Akaashi’s chest bone with one hand as he dialed 911 with his other. He slipped slightly on the small pile of vomit next to Akaashi’s head as he knelt down next to him. He recited the name of the pills on the bottle and recited his address. He set the phone down and put it on speaker. He tilted Akaashi’s head, lifted his chin, pinched his nose, and started breathing for him. Two quick breaths into his mouth then one long breath. Repeat that every five seconds. That’s what he learned. He was going to breathe for Akaashi and he was going to bring him back. He needed to bring him back. Two quick breaths, one long breath.

_And I’m sorry for the fans I love, who watched me fall again_

_I wanna be a role model, but I’m only human_

“Sir, do you have any Narcan?”

_I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know why_

“Yes, I’m getting it-” Bokuto was already reaching into the small black bag he kept under the sink, just in case. He snatched the yellow cap off of the plastic delivery device and removed the red cap off of the cartridge. He screwed the naloxone cartridge into the barrel of the syringe. 

_I do it every, every, every time. It’s only when I’m lonely_

“Sir, don’t forget to-”

_Sometimes I just wanna cave and I don’t wanna fight_

“-tilt his head. I know. I’ve practiced. I’ve practiced so much.” Bokuto was whispering as he concentrated on spraying the Narcan into each of his nostrils. “Come on, Kaashi.” Bokuto leaned over and continued breathing for him, counting the seconds as they passed. “Please...Keiji.”

_I try and I try and I try and I try and I try_

_Just hold me, I’m lonely_

Akaashi sputtered awake minutes later.

_Mama, I’m so sorry, I’m not sober anymore._

_Daddy please forgive me for the drinks spilled on the floor_

“Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed as he gripped Akaashi’s shoulders. He stared down at the withering man below him as the EMT’s burst through their bathroom door. 

__

Akaashi blinked himself back to reality. He scowled at the man in front of him again and received a twin scowl in return. They were equally annoyed at everything around them. Akaashi turned slightly and saw Bokuto still talking to the doctor. He was crying.

_To the ones who never left me, we’ve been down this road before_

_I’m so sorry, I’m not sober anymore._

He felt the seat dip beside him again and Akaashi turned his head towards Bokuto. 

“Keiji-”

“Bokuto.” The simple utterance of his name brought back the smiling gray-haired man Akaashi had fallen in love with. The warmth in his eyes spread throughout his body and radiated toward Akaashi. 

“Akaashi! You- Akaashi, you recognize me?” Bokuto took one of Akaashi’s hand in his. Akaashi stared down at the intrusion into his space and accepted it gratefully.

Akaashi looked up at Bokuto and tried to smile. He failed but what mattered is that he tried. “Koutarou-” Akaashi looked up at Bokuto again.

“Say that again,” Bokuto whispered as he let his tears fall freely.

“Koutarou- what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Akaashi reached up and stroked Bokuto’s cold cheek. “Don’t cry, please.” 

“I’m okay- I promise I’m okay. We will be okay. Stop staring into that mirror and come back to the room with me.”

Akaashi turned toward the man sitting across from him. The man mimicking his glare and his scowl. The man mimicked his every movement and blink. He tilted his head slightly, the man did as well. “Mirror.” He whispered to himself. Akaashi sat on the edge of the couch and leaned toward the man. He reached out to touch him and was met with the cold smoothness of glass. More importantly, the cold smoothness of a mirror. Akaashi gasped softly, something breaking inside of him. Bokuto took his hand and held him together.

_I’m sorry that I’m here again, I promise I’ll get help._

_It wasn’t my intention, I’m sorry to myself._


End file.
